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The Lost Glade News
Leading Kindreds
1st: Alter 70pts
2nd: Spellsinger 50pts
3rd: Eternal 30pts
Kindred Scoreboard
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Please Read the News Section
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Rest in peace
| Billfred |
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Citizen of the Glade

Group: Ancient
Posts: 173
Member No.: 371
Joined: 29-September 06

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Over the Hills and Far Away.
Here's forty shillings on the drum for those who volunteer to come To 'list and fight the foe today - Over the hills and far away
O'er the hills and o'er the main, Through Flanders Portugal and Spain King George commands and we obey - Over the hills and far away
When duty calls me I must go, to stand and face another foe But part of me will always stray - Over the Hills and far away
O'er the hills and o'er the main, Through Flanders Portugal and Spain King George commands and we obey - Over the hills and far away
If I should fall to rise no more, as many comrades did before Then ask the fifes and drums to play - Over the hills and far away
O'er the hills and o'er the main, Through Flanders Portugal and Spain King George commands and we obey - Over the hills and far away
The fall in lads behind the drum. With colours blazing like the sun Along the road to come what may - Over the hills and far away
O'er the hills and o'er the main, Through Flanders Portugal and Spain King George commands and we obey - Over the hills and far away
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| Nelyafinwë |
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Resident Tolkienfreak

Group: Wardancer
Posts: 441
Member No.: 43
Joined: 29-December 05

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Markirya
Men cenuva fánë cirya métima hrestallo círa, i fairi nécë ringa súmaryassë ve maiwi yaimië?
Man tiruva fána cirya, wilwarin wilwa, ëar-celumessen rámainen elvië ëar falastala, winga hlápula rámar sisílala, cálë fifírula?
Man hlaruva rávëa súrë ve tauri lillassië, ninqui carcar yarra isilmë ilcalassë, isilmë pícalassë, isilmë lantalassë ve loicolícuma; raumo nurrua, undumë rúma?
Man cenuva lumbor ahosta Menel acúna ruxal' ambonnar, ëar amortala, undumë hácala, enwina lúmë elenillor pella talta-taltala atalantië mindonnar?
Man tiruva rácina cirya ondolissë mornë nu fanyarë rúcina, anar púrëa tihta axor ilcalannar métim' auressë? Man cenuva métim' andúnë?
Who shall see a white ship leave the last shore, the pale phantoms in her cold bosom like gulls wailing?
Who shall heed a white ship, vague as a butterfly, in the flowing sea on wings like stars, the sea surging, the foam blowing, the wings shining, the light fading?
Who shall hear the wind roaring like leaves of forests; the white rocks snarling in the moon gleaming, in the moon waning, in the moon falling, a corpse-candle; the storm mumbling, the abyss moving?
Who shall see the clouds gather, the heavens bending upon crumbling hills, the sea heaving, the abyss yawning, the old darkness beyond the stars falling upon fallen towers?
Who shall heed a broken ship on the black rocks under broken skies, a bleared sun blinking on bones gleaming in the last morning? Who shall see the last evening?
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| the anti santa |
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Citizen of the Glade

Group: No Kindred
Posts: 297
Member No.: 158
Joined: 27-February 06

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One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
-- Elizabeth Bishop
Such a terrible thing to happen to someone so young, his family and friends must be devastated.
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| Schmeag |
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Citizen of the Glade

Group: Eternal
Posts: 1,093
Member No.: 399
Joined: 20-November 06

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Believe, Achieve
Where the sun don't shine, And the roses flee, Upon th'heath of mires and bogs, Lies the land o' Tragedy. When a life so young, Carves its path through th'posies And takes leave of birds and bees, I say, "Dear life, How sad 'tis to see But alas, you shall always be with me." No matter where life leads-- Whether tis' to Tragedy Or the seas of Serenity--I know That you'll always Believe.
For tis' what you've always done, Determined to lead, As a steadfast idealist To satisfy our wayward needs. But you were never one to bore, Oh, for that, I say, "James, God bless ye," And further add in reverence of thee, "Rest in peace, and be troubled no more, Let Tragedy turn to Serenity, Because with TLG, And RTB, And IRC, And our beloved WE, I know for sure: That you'll always Achieve, see?"
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| Brannick |
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Citizen of the Glade

Group: No Kindred
Posts: 7
Member No.: 56
Joined: 2-January 06

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I am sorry to post this here, but I do not have access to post in the other forum about James.
I, on behalf of all those at Imp-Lit.net, would like to pass on our thoughts and sincere condolences to James' family.
I was personally lucky enough to have had a number of e-mail and PM chats with James over the years, although, I am sure, I didn't know him nearly as well as the folks here at The Glade.
The G-W community as a whole has lost a true true representative, many of us have lost a dear colleague and, many of us a loved friend.
Imp-Lit is with you The Lost Glade in this most sad of times.
To James!
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| Lynx |
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Wardancer Lord

Group: Guardian
Posts: 659
Member No.: 21
Joined: 25-December 05

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Tears, Idle Tears By Lord Alfred Tennyson --- Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
RIP James, we will never forget you.
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